


blurred lines

by missbolton



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, but jean is very much in LOVE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbolton/pseuds/missbolton
Summary: Jean isn’t sure when the lines between 'stress relief' and feelings begin to blur.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first jerejean fic! I couldn't resist. I love them 
> 
> (although I'm pretty sure if I loved them, I wouldn't have disgraced their tag with this fic lol)

Jean isn’t sure when the lines between a casual fuck and real feelings began to blur.

All he knows is that at first, Jeremy is nothing but a way to relieve stress, simply a teammate who he fucks because he can. They’re both single, they’re both Trojans. Jeremy is admittedly attractive, all hard muscle and shining smiles. It’s an efficient deal which leaves them both satisfied. Jeremy labels it a  _ friends with benefits _ thing; Jean disgarees, as he wouldn’t have even thought  _ friends  _ to be a suitable classification. It’s more of a _ teammates with benefits  _ kind of scenario.

But that was in the beginning.

A friendship grows eventually. It blooms slowly yet surely, generously helped by the fact that they’re pressed together in the most intimate way possible most nights. That doesn’t make them best friends - far from it. Jean huffs with laughter at some of Jeremy’s jokes, and Jeremy will give Jean a ride somewhere if he needs it, but that is it. 

Jean finds Jeremy overwhelming some days. He’s always the optimist, a ray of sunshine in human form, carelessly throwing around that dazzling smile. For somebody as closed off as Jean, it grows tiring, and occasionally the easiest way to deal with Jeremy is to not talk to him at all.

On other days, Jeremy finds Jean bitter. The destructive mind-set of a Raven player is ingrained deep into Jean, and no matter how he tries to shed it and adopt the Trojan mind-set, it is set too deep. It is a scar.

They are black and white, light and dark, dog and cat - anything which is worlds apart, that is them. Jean is dark and reserved and damaged. Jeremy Knox is unbearably pure.

Yet they don’t fight. At most, they send each other dirty looks when they think the other isn’t looking, but they never say anything hurtful, never do anything deliberately cruel. Jeremy isn’t Riko. Jeremy is kind-hearted, and for all of his ruthless determination during a game, it mellows the second they step off court. Riko was a bastard, and now he’s dead. Jeremy’s kindness is bone deep, and Jeremy is  _ here _ .

Their disputes are never anything a good fuck can’t sort out, anyway. Jeremy’s irritation vanishes when Jean is inside of him, hitching his legs up and rolling his hips in a way that leaves Jeremy making the most inhuman of noises. Jean’s anger fades, replaced by the sting of where Jeremy’s nails dig into his back. By the end of it, as they lie together, sweating and attempting to collect the last of their composure, all bitterness has long gone.

One day, it all comes crashing down.

Jeremy is on top of him, fingers laced with Jean’s as he rides him. The pace is quick, but not as fast as they can go if buzzing with adrenaline, and it lacks the desperate edge if it’s after a game. Both of Jean’s hands are being held by Jeremy. If they weren’t, he would be touching, pressing his hands  _ everywhere _ he could. Instead, Jean dips his head forwards and sucks at Jeremy’s neck, soothing the sting of his teeth with a warm tongue. Jeremy’s skin is soft and blank, a canvas for him to mark.

The man on top of him makes a low noise in his throat. Jean shudders.

At some point, their frantic, stress-relieving sex has slowed into something far more meaningful. The lines had always been so clear cut, and now they’re blurring together. 

Up until that point, Jean had been conveniently unaware that he has been living a lie. 

“Jean,” he says, voice rough. “Oh, god. Jean, you’re amazing, did you know that?” Jean isn’t sure how to answer that, so he pushes his hips up slightly, meeting Jeremy halfway. It startles a noise from him, and when Jean does it again, he’s rewarded with the prettiest of groans he’s ever heard. “ _ Fuck _ , you’re so - so good.”

And Jeremy likes to talk, but his words lack the same desperation as usual. They’ve adopted an almost affectionate tone.

_ Oh no _ .

But Jean can’t stop.

“Fuck,” he grunts, chasing the word with a bite to Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy is tight, hot and unbelievably perfect around Jean. 

He’s about to come. Each movement is driving him closer, and Jeremy’s words are pulling him further underwater and it’s too late. He’s drowning and he doesn’t care.

Jeremy is gasping. “Jean, oh,  _ shit _ .” 

Even as they speed up, there’s still a lingering significance behind everything.

“Right there, _right_ there, don’t stop,” Jeremy begs.

Jean pulls back and looks at Jeremy’s face. That is a mistake. Jeremy’s brown eyes blaze, blown wide and darkened by pupil, his lips parted in ecstasy. All those months ago when they had started this, Jean had enjoyed the feel of Jeremy’s body, the look of it.

This is something different. Before, it was the chance to fuck something, and it just happened that his  _ something _ was gorgeous. It never mattered that it was Jeremy Knox. Now, it matters immensely that it is Jeremy Knox; somehow, the fact that it is Jeremy makes everything immeasurably  _ better _ .

_ Teammates with benefits _ is wrong. Even  _ friends with benefits _ doesn’t sound right, lacking the shape of the word which Jean so desperately wants to say, but that’s strictly out of sight. Jeremy had told him that a relationship is not the end goal here.

He kisses Jeremy as they tumble over the edge together. Jean comes so hard he’s fairly sure blacks out, but is tethered to reality by Jeremy’s mouth as they both come down from the high. The kiss is hot and messy. It says all the words he can’t quite manage.

Afterwards, Jeremy just sighs and says, “Wow.”

Jean agrees.

They fall asleep together, tangled up under Jean’s covers, not a scrap of clothing between them. They start off just next to each other; by the time they wake up, Jean’s face is tucked into Jeremy’s shoulder, and his arm is slung loosely over Jeremy’s torso.

That is unusual, considering Jeremy always finds his way back to his own bed, even if it takes him a few minutes to regain movement in his legs. But nothing about tonight has been normal. They had fucked with unbridled passion and affection, stitching themselves together and kissing with emotion tangling between their mouths.

As he drifts off into Jeremy’s shoulder, Jean searches for the remnants of the limits they set, but everything is pleasantly knotted up.

The realisation isn’t sudden. It doesn’t hit him like a fist, much less does he have an emotional epiphany.

The realisation is slow. It trickles in, syrupy and unhurried, little by little. It happens so steadily that Jean feels no change. Nothing happens until he is completely and totally fucked, with no possible chance of escape. All of this time, he’s been wading deeper and deeper without realising that the water is rising.

Now, he is submerged.

He’s love with Jeremy Knox and there isn’t much he can do about it. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean struggles to comprehend his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was asked to continue this ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> there will be one more chapter which will give my boys a happy ending but for now have this

 “Are you avoiding me?” Jeremy asks, although there’s an irritated gleam in his eyes which shows that he already knows the answer. He’s spent four whole days being ignored, and eventually his indifference seems to have shattered. 

In some other world, Jean would feel satisfied at managing to break the infamously sunny Jeremy Knox.

In this world, all he feels is shame trickling down his back.

And it’s not like he can say  _ I haven’t been avoiding you,  _ because he blatantly has - Jean has turned on his heel to avoid brushing past Jeremy, and his most transparent attempts have been spotted by almost everyone. Even Laila, who usually adopts a  _ stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours  _ kind of attitude, had said, “I’ve never seen you try to get away from somebody that quickly before. What did he do?”

What  _ did  _ he do?

Aside from exist, Jean can’t think up anything reasonable to answer that question.

So, Jean isn’t going to lie. He kicked that habit a long time ago. Riko always punished lies the harshest, and Jean found that out the hard way.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Jeremy blinks, his annoyance faltering. He’d obviously been expecting to have to fight his case. “Right.”

Jean looks back to his work, but his mind is fluttering about elsewhere. Jeremy is still stood behind him, uncharacteristically anxious and unsure of his place despite being stood in his own room.

“Why?” Jeremy adds. His captain-voice has vanished now; the man speaking to Jean is just Jeremy. “Did I do something wrong?”

Jean doesn’t think he can answer that without unveiling the ugly truth behind his avoidance:  _ I like you a lot and I don’t know how to deal with that _ .

“It is not your fault.”

Jeremy frowns. “You’re avoiding  _ me _ . It has to be my fault.”

“It is not.”

“You ran away from me after practice the other night.” Jeremy manages a laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Guilt darts through him -  _ that’s my fault,  _ he thinks. Jeremy’s usually vibrant grin has dimmed to something mediocre. Because of him. Holding onto that knowledge feels like a kick to the chest. “Like, literally  _ ran _ . I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast before. Not even in a game.”

“I was not running.” Jean replies, although he doesn’t deny trying to escape before Jeremy caught up with him. “Just walking fast.”

“You didn’t wait for me.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. He knows it forces his expression into something condescending - as Neil Josten had kindly told him during his stay at Evermore,  _ it makes you look like an asshole _ .

“I was not aware we had an arrangement.”

“Not officially, no.” Jeremy has wilted. It reminds Jean of a dying flower. “You wait for me every other time, that’s all.”

There is no denying fact. He just lets it go silent, torn between wanting two things. Half of him wants Jeremy to go now. The silence is growing suffocating. The other half of him wants Jeremy to stay, to climb onto Jean’s lap and kiss him until their lips are pleasantly swollen and their skin is tingling. As he thinks about the second option, Jean lets his gaze linger on Jeremy’s exposed knees - does he ever  _ not _ wear shorts? - and keeps looking up until he reaches brown eyes.

It stays silent for a moment longer. Jean wonders if Jeremy is about to leave, but instead, settles next to Jean. His presence is warm and comforting, but there’s also the painful rise of emotion in the back of his throat, reminding Jean exactly why avoiding Jeremy has been his plan for the last four weeks.

“Jean,” Jeremy says, almost a whisper, and  _ God  _ Jean wishes he could say his name over and over until he exhausts it. “What’s wrong?”

“I will be fine.” At some point, maybe, but not quite yet. Hopefully, his feelings for Jeremy Knox will sort themselves out before things get  _ too _ painful. 

“You can tell me, you know. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Jean says. Jeremy waits expectantly, but all Jean does is reach over and brush his fingers over his wrist. The spot where their skin touched seems to light up. “Thank you.”

Jean doesn’t say  _ Thank you  _ often, so when he does, it has a deeper meaning. Jeremy nods his head twice, not quite satisfied with the response but adamant to appreciate it anyway.

Sometimes, Jean wishes Jeremy would do something -  _ anything _ \- wrong. Then he would have a reason to stay away, to cut him from his social life and make Jeremy nothing but his teammate. But Jeremy doesn’t do anything wrong. Everything he does is flawless, selfless and exactly the  _ right thing _ .

Jeremy Knox is undeniably and unbearably fucking perfect.

“James isn’t sleeping here tonight.” This is what distracts Jean from staring at the exposed sliver of Jeremy’s thigh. “He’s at his girlfriend’s. It’s their anniversary. So ...  it’s just us. All night.”

There’s childish mischief flashing in Jeremy’s eyes. Jean represses a smile.

“You are not subtle, Jeremy.”

Jeremy smiles. This one is closer to his usual grin, and it ignites something inside of Jean, something hot and buzzing and untameable.

_ Fuck _ .

* * *

 

Sex starts the same each time - Jeremy finding his way into Jean’s bed, heated kisses and hasty undressing. But it takes a bizarre twist mid-way, and every time Jean finds himself left with a burning dissatisfaction of not getting  _ enough _ . Surely, it should be enough, because Jeremy Knox is perfect in every aspect and having him at all is blessing.

Jean hadn’t understood it the first time, and he’s no closer to getting it now. 

However, this time is different. It starts slowly, Jeremy pushing into Jean with Jean’s long legs wrapped around him. There’s no sudden drop into softness - it starts off like that. Jean groans, long and low, surprising both himself and Jeremy. Usually, it is only when careening into orgasm that noises slip through his teeth.

But Jeremy doesn’t mind. He rewards Jean with a soft, warm kiss. It is like the universe is giving him a teasing taste of what it would be like to  _ have  _ Jeremy. Jean knows he can never keep this. This is just sex. Just a casual fuck. Just  _ stress relief _ .

Nothing more.

Heat gathers between their skin as they are pressed together so firmly. Jean feels Jeremy’s strong heart thud against his chest, and swears that it’s going to be a miracle if they detach after this. He kisses Jeremy, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and feels a thrill spark through his body when Jeremy makes a low noise.

“Do you like this?” Jeremy asks, voice rough.

Jean wants to deny it, say  _ no, go faster, fuck me like I’m nothing to you. _ This is far too intimate.

Instead, he makes a strangled noise of approval as Jeremy rocks into him again.

Jean’s muscles twinge from the position - he’s almost folded in half - but he makes no effort to shift. The intoxicating push and pull of Jeremy’s cock is ...   _ perfect _ . One of Jean’s hands grips the flesh of Jeremy’s ass, the other pulling at his hair in a desperate urge to  _ keep going _ . This speed is going to drive him insane. It’s not enough to make him come, not yet, but if Jeremy keeps this up …

“You feel so good,” Jean tells him, among broken gasps and pants into Jeremy’s ear.

The answer is a choked, “Jean.”

Fingers dig into Jean’s thigh; he barely registers the pain. This is a foreign sensation. He’s never managed to enjoy soft, slow sex. It always seemed like a waste of time.

Now, however, Jean is floating so high that he wouldn’t even notice if somebody walked in.

_ This is dangerous,  _ he reminds himself,  _ always be aware of your surroundings _ .

But the only thing he is aware of is Jeremy’s cock stretching him open, Jeremy’s hot lips against Jean’s neck, Jeremy’s skin pressed so close, just  _ Jeremy. _

Jean is vulnerable, and yet he has never felt so safe.

When it’s all over, Jeremy stays in his bed. Like last time, Jean tries to remember what this is, where they are, but all he can focus on properly is the solidity of Jeremy’s body below his arm.

* * *

 

Before Jean leaves for his early class, he leans down and captures Jeremy’s lips in a long, chaste kiss.

Jeremy doesn’t seem to mind.

It is wrong, yet it is right, and Jean doesn’t concentrate at all in Chemistry. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me a comment? lemme know what you think of this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finally sorts things out, and comes to regret the result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE I've upped the chapter count to 4  
> so this isn't the ending  
> I'm sorry
> 
> but in my defense I'm an indecisive hoe and I'm in the middle of all my exams so I'm a bit preccoupied rn

Jean plans to sort things out with Jeremy as soon as he can.

As it turns out, ‘as soon as he can’ happens to be almost weeks later. Life just manages to intervene - it switches from Exy to studying to social gatherings so rapidly Jean finds himself exhausted. Before, his life was simple. He was a Raven, he belonged to Riko and the only thing that mattered was Exy.

Exy isn’t the only thing that matters any more. He has a life to worry about. He has  _ friends  _ that matter. There is also a big, Jeremy Knox-shaped problem constantly dancing on his mind.

The problem gets bigger and harder to ignore every time Jeremy comes into Jean’s line of view - and seeing as they share a room, that’s pretty fucking often.

Jean is an honest man by nature. He won’t hesitate to call somebody out on their shitty footwork. He refuses to shy away from asshole opponents who decide to shout at him. He  _ certainly _ doesn’t tiptoe around simple conversations.

Why is this any different?

It is as if his whole life has made an exception for anything Jeremy related. His honesty has been worn away by a paralysing fear of rejection; his firm mental state has taken a wobbly turn. Jean has always prided himself in keeping his emotions tightly clutched to his chest, never letting anything stray from deep inside him. But now, his emotions are  _ everywhere _ . At some point, he let his grip loose, and trying to collect them is like trying to bottle mist.

He plans it out late one night. The next morning, he will catch Jeremy before his class, ask flatly:  _ what is this? _

Like most things, that plan comes crashing down almost straight away. Jeremy leaves stupidly early for his class.

Jean’s next attempt is at practice. He watches Jeremy weave in around Jean elegantly, determination set beautifully on his features as he catapults the ball past Laila and into the net. Jean takes a second to watch how he grins smugly and declares his victory.

“Jeremy -” Jean begins, but is promptly cut off by a shrill, “ _ Jean _ !” from across the court.

He narrowly dodges the ball which comes flying at him.

“Fucking Christ, Alveraz!” Jeremy shouts. “Watch it!”

“I thought he was paying attention!” she defends, although looks guilty. “Sorry, Moreau!”

“It is fine,” Jean says, but he gives up on trying to pursue Jeremy today.

By his third try, Jean is expecting a tragic outcome, so he’s not exactly surprised when Jeremy is distracted by a phone call. Jeremy stays on the phone for about five minutes, before turning his attention back to Jean, who has lost all desire to chase the matter. His interest has fluttered and died in his chest.

Maybe it just isn’t meant to be.

* * *

 

It is three weeks later when an opportunity rolls around. 

James takes off for Amanda’s house - that’s the name of his girlfriend, and whoever she is, Jean is thankful for her existence - and that leaves Jeremy and Jean alone. At first, Jean is content to remain finishing his homework whilst Jeremy rattles around in the kitchen, but eventually, he ditches Calculus in search of a more interesting subject.

“Hey,” Jeremy says casually, flicking Jean a greeting smile. It is small and irrelevant. It shouldn’t send sparks down Jean’s spine.

It does.

“Hello,” he replies, eyes flicking to Jeremy’s exposed biceps and back up to his face. “What are you doing?”

“Cooking.” Jeremy points to the bowls and pots assorted around him, then to a grocery bag which Jean assumes is filled with ingredients. “Want to help?”

“I have homework.”

“Oh, okay.” Jeremy doesn’t say anything else on the subject, happy to drop it. He doesn’t even sound that put out.

Jean wishes he would push. Jean wishes he would push and push until he snaps, and then they would argue and shout, and there would be a catastrophic fallout which would give Jean perfect opportunity to end their ‘thing’. It would give him a reason. The confusion would be dropped from life. It would go back to being a boring, long path to death, and Jeremy wouldn’t be so intertwined with it.

But Jeremy doesn’t push.

Jean stands there for a few more moments, watching Jeremy pull things from the bags and set them on the counter.

“No late practice tonight,” Jeremy reminds him. It’s an offhand comment, simply a casual thing to say, although Jean recognises a meaning deep within it -  _ it’s just us tonight, all night. _

Jean can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he walks closer to Jeremy until they are inches away from each other, looking deep into calm brown eyes. Jeremy has always had nice eyes. Back when Jean first joined the Trojans, that had been the first thing he noticed. His eyes were dark, like Riko’s, but they lacked the same malicious intent. The gleam in them is all friendly; Riko’s was murderous.

Jeremy reaches up and smooths a lock of Jean’s hair back. He goes to take his hand away, but Jean catches it, smoothly following the movement by surging forwards for a kiss. Jeremy’s lips are willing and soft, opening and allowing his tongue to slide past them. Kissing usually precedes something else. However, when Jean pulls back, they make no move to run to the bedroom and pull each other’s clothes off.

It would be so easy right now.  _ We need to talk. What are we? What am I to you? Is this still just stress relief? Do you feel the same way? _

Instead, Jean just says, “Your mouth tastes like chocolate.”

Jeremy just smiles and leans in for another kiss.

* * *

 

It is only later he musters a scrap of bravery. 

He plans to wait until after they fuck, because Jeremy’s body is something Jean will always crave.

Things don’t go to plan.

Jeremy looks absolutely delightful in sweatpants and a loose shirt. It takes all of Jean’s self control not to rip his shirt off right there, and he manages to wait a few hours. Finally, when temptation becomes an itch he just  _ has _ to scratch, he leans over and attaches his lips to Jeremy’s neck. He slides his tongue down, his lips ghosting over the jut of Jeremy’s collarbone and drinking in the shiver which wracks through Jeremy’s body.

“Jean.” That’s all he says. It’s enough. Jean meets his lips, and before he knows it, Jeremy is on top of Jean, fingers crawling past the confinements of clothing.

The kissing starts mindless. Unfortunately, Jean’s conscience catches up with him.  _ What is this? What are we? This doesn’t feel like stress relief. This feels like something more. _

By kissing Jeremy, he is betraying their agreement. This is a casual arrangement, nothing but the use of another willing body in order to get off, and yet here he is. There are warm, fuzzy feelings which feel overwhelmingly unfamiliar. He has to stop this. He has to do  _ something _ . Otherwise, they will carry on until Jean reaches his breaking point and everything will fall apart.

_ Say something. Do something. _

_ Do anything _ .

“This is not what you wanted it to be,” Jean says suddenly. The words sting his tongue as they come out.

Jeremy pulls back, eyebrows furrowing, a crease digging into his forehead like it does when he’s confused. “What?”

For a moment, it is silent. Jean tries to summon the words he planned to say, but comes up horribly blank. He can almost see the growing tension rippling through the air between them.

“This.” He gestures between the two of them. 

Jeremy sits up so he is on Jean’s lap, knees either side of his legs. He looks down at Jean with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. It is a gorgeous sight. “I’m confused.”

_ Join the club,  _ Jean thinks bitterly.

“This is not what you wanted it to be.”

“What do you think I want this to be?” Jeremy adds.

“Sex,” Jean says. “Just sex.”

Jeremy looks at him for a long, testing moment. Eventually, he nods, although he looks slightly conflicted as to whether that’s the right thing to do.

“So why did you say -” he begins, but Jean jumps in. 

“I have had sex before. Meaningless sex.” Jean thinks back to the Nest, where sex was a casual thing, regardless of gender or age or position. A fuck was a fuck. “It does not feel like this.”

Jeremy averts his eyes for a moment. Jean tries not to move too much - when he had planned having this discussion, he hadn’t planned for Jeremy to be sat on top of him.

“So you think this is more than … than sex.”

“It feels like that.”

“Do you like me? Like …  _ like _ ?”

Despite the chants of  _ yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes  _ in his head, Jean clears his throat and says, “No.”

There’s another testing silence. Jean is still hard and trying to ignore the delirious pressure of Jeremy’s ass against him. For a man with supposed good self-control, this proves a challenge.

“Which is why I have to end … this.” Jeremy looks back to him, shocked and sad and relieved all at once. “Continuing would be harmful. To both of us.”

Jeremy looks beyond startled for a moment, but then his expression clears and he seems to come to his senses. He clambers off Jean’s lap. There’s a second where Jean thinks Jeremy is about to turn around and leave forever. Perhaps this is the end of their friendship right now.

However, Jeremy makes no move to leave. He stands his ground - true captain style - and looks Jean directly in the eye. Jean wishes his eyes weren’t so distracting.

“You’re scared.”

Jean blinks. That was not the response he had been expecting.

“Scared,” he repeats blankly.

“You don’t like me yet, and you’re scared you’ll develop feelings. Right?”

Not quite. The feelings have been stewing for ages, bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. They are already there, buried deep in his bones. He couldn’t chase it away even if he tried.

But he can’t tell Jeremy that. Instead, he just says, “You said when we started that you do not want to date anyone on the team.”

“It isn’t dating.”

“I am sorry.”

Jeremy looks as if he is going to argue, but sees it futile mid-word.

“You’re ending this,” he clarifies.

For lack of anything better to say, Jean just repeats, “I am sorry.”

Jeremy leaves then.

He doesn’t come back all night.

* * *

 

 

Two nights later, Jeremy returns, smile as wide and dazzling as it has always been. Jean watches, bewildered, as he prances through to the kitchen with a sunny, “Morning, Jean.”

Jean had been expecting Jeremy to be mad. This is … somehow, this is even worse than Jeremy shutting him out completely.Jeremy is being perfectly civil, as if nothing ever happened between them. The remnants of their ‘arrangement’ have evaporated, and all that is left of them is a nearly-faded hickey just below Jeremy’s collar.

Eventually, the hickey fades away, along with the evidence that they ever slept together.

* * *

 

Jean doesn’t believe in regret.

He refuses to believe that letting Jeremy go was a mistake. He refuses to believe that he misses him. He refuses to acknowledge the feelings which pull his chest tight whenever Jeremy smiles at him.

He refuses to think about the way Jeremy was perfect and tight around him, how Jean could say all sorts of things into Jeremy’s neck, how they worked so well together.

“Bet you regret letting that go, don’t you?” Laila asks him. She isn’t being harsh, but her words still leave an unpleasant ring in the air.

Jean isn’t sure how she even knows.

“I do not believe in regret.”

Neither of them mention how he avoids answering the question.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like a long, exhausting uphill battle. Every time Jean makes several steps, something knocks him all the way down to the bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ... here's the ending
> 
> yes??? no????
> 
> please validate me

It feels like a long, exhausting uphill battle. Every time Jean makes several steps, something knocks him all the way down to the bottom.

Unhelpfully, his mind reminds him that this is his fault. He’s caught up in a horrible trap and it’s all because he’d been stupid enough to agree to Jeremy’s arrangement. He’d been stupid enough to kiss Jeremy Knox and assume that it would remain simply kissing. Nothing is ever  _ just _ something with Jeremy.

Sex is never  _ just  _ sex.

His smile is never  _ just  _ a smile.

Jean hates him for it.

* * *

 

“Why did you end it?”

The question catches Jean off guard. He turns to look at Jeremy, who is determinedly looking at the television. He isn’t watching properly - his eyes are distant, so unlike his usual shining interest that his distraction is obvious.

Jean can read Jeremy well, and his jaw is uncharacteristically tight. That question has probably been stewing on his mind for days now.

“End what?” Jean says carefully.

“You know. Our -  _ thing _ .”

“I did tell you why,” Jean replies. He keeps his voice detached. This is the subject he’s been dreading the discussion of for weeks.

“But I don’t get it.”

“It was not what you wanted, Jeremy.”

“And how the fuck do you know what I want?”

Jean blinks.

Jeremy sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyebrow regretfully. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“No. It is fine.” Jean doesn’t break the eye contact, even if he feels the tension crawling on his skin. “You can be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Jeremy says, frowning. “I’m just … disappointed.”

That seems like a peculiar adjective to use, but Jean doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he continues watching the television, although the show they’re watching is the last thing on his mind.

If Jean’s fingers brush Jeremy’s wrist, sending shivers over him, neither of them mention it.

* * *

“Jean,” Jeremy says, words long and syrupy and relaxed. They float through the air harmlessly, and Jean battles a grin. Jeremy looks nice in the sunshine. The light brings out several freckles, throwing his face into greater detail. Simply put, he looks  _ pretty _ . 

“Jeremy,” he replies.

They are on a beach, sand between their toes and twin smiles on their faces. 

“I love you,” Jeremy tells him seriously, smiling like an idiot, all teeth and dimples and perfection. “I love you …  _ so  _ much.”

Jean smiles, wide and unabashed. He doesn’t ever remember smiling like this before. “I love you too.”

Jeremy kisses him then, sliding his fingers over Jean’s jaw and gripping his face. His lips don’t taste like much. They feel sort of … cold. Ghostly. Unreal.

What does feel real, however, is a pillow smacking him awake.

He jumps up defensively, raising his arms, entirely ready to fight. Panic flares through him, a mantra of  _ Riko Riko Riko _ flashing through his head. All he sees is a freckled face looking down at him. James has never been particularly gentle, on court or off court.

“What the fuck,” he snaps, “is your problem?”

“It’s nine, dumbass. Practice starts in half an hour.” When Jean doesn’t react, James heaves a sigh, running a hand through his hair. His hair is an unfortunate shade of ginger, always tousled at the front and flat at the back. Jean thinks it looks ridiculous. “You’re my ride.”

“I do not remember agreeing to that.”

“You did, dude,” he shrugs. “Captain didn’t come home last night, so you’re my only hope.”

Jean tenses at the words. “Jeremy did not come back?”

“Nah. I always assume he’s doing gay shit with that footballer.”

Ignoring the insult, Jean just says plainly, “Footballer.”

“Yeah. McQuaid or something. Guy’s a good player, but …” James searches for words, but clearly can’t find any which are suitable. He shrugs it off as if it’s unimportant. 

However, for Jean, this newfound knowledge burns as it sinks in.

_ Jeremy found someone else _ .

Jean has never thought of himself an unintelligent. He’s always had enough brain cells to preserve his life before. But now ... 

Frankly, he feels stupid.

“Are they together?”

James pulls a face. Trying to contain his homophobic opinions looks almost painful, and Jean is quite glad that James never found out about Jean and Jeremy’s arrangement, otherwise he’d probably move rooms. Not that James’s absence is a tragedy.

“Maybe. Couldn’t tell you.”

“Right.” He doesn’t want to seem overly eager, but the question bursts from his lips before he’s had chance to contain it. “How often does Jeremy see … McQuaid?”

Luckily, James possesses very few brain cells, and most of those are dedicated to his own problems. He doesn’t even notice Jean’s insistence, instead shrugging for a second time, saying, “A few times a month, maybe. Get dressed, man, we gotta go.”

Jean doesn’t stop thinking about Jeremy’s supposed relationship with McQuaid the entire journey to practice.

* * *

 

Jean does something stupid.

Max, Laila’s reserve, has always had something strangely attractive about him. There’s nothing really  _ wrong  _ with him, but there’s nothing exactly lovely about him either. His athletic figure and blonde hair are very, very similar to somebody else familiar. Jean plays pretend, pushing any thoughts of Jeremy out of his mind as he leans down and kisses Max. His mouth tastes like beer. His tongue feels weird.

Pushing Jeremy from his mind has never worked before, and it’s not about to start working now. Jeremy is under his skin, unbearably so. There’s no  _ getting over him _ . Not even if Jean moved thousands of miles away and got a new identity. Some traitorous part of his brain would recall Jeremy’s muscular thighs, Jeremy’s brown eyes, Jeremy’s chiming laugh and teasing grin.

He fucks Max at some point in the night. Max is tight and hot, and he feels okay, but  _ okay _ is a stretch.

There’s nothing sparking between the bits of skin that are touching.

There’s no moaning and groaning of, “You’re amazing, you’re so good.”

It’s nothing like Jeremy.

But nothing ever is.

* * *

 

It’s been three months.

Ninety-two days.

Two thousand two hundred and eight hours.

Jean has never been more irritated. It feels like he let a pretty butterfly go, and the more he chases after it, the further away it flies. Jeremy seems impossibly out of reach.

They still talk, of course, but they  _ just  _ talk. There’s no sneaky kisses or suggestive glances. Jeremy treats Jean like a friend.

Just friends.

Nothing more.

That ‘nothing’ becomes a bit blurry one night, when Jean wakes up quivering and gasping and panting, memories of the Nest assaulting his mind. Jeremy claims that he was already awake, but judging by his tired eyes and constant yawning, he had been woken up by Jean’s nightmare.

“You okay?”

“I will be fine. Go back to sleep.” It is less of a reassurance than a command.

But Jeremy doesn’t listen. He climbs from the top bunk and down to Jean’s bed, standing over him with a frown on his face. How does he manage to make  _ frowning _ look attractive?

“You’re such a liar.”

“Go away.”

“You always say you’ll be fine. I used to believe you. But tomorrow, you’re gonna be fucking exhausted at practice because you won’t get back to sleep.” Jeremy frowns even deeper, eyes flicking to Jean’s bed, and then he makes a decision. Putting his best Captain-voice on, he says, “Move over.”

“What?”

“I said move over.” When Jean raises his eyebrows - more out of shock than anything else - Jeremy sighs. “You’re not going to get to sleep alone.”

“Knox -”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Jeremy says blankly. “Now move up.”

_ I wish it could mean something _ , Jean thinks.

Instead, he shuffles over, mumbling a, “Fine.”

The initial getting comfortable is difficult, but when Jeremy is pressed against his back, shielding him, Jean finds his eyes already drooping closed.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” There he goes again - no pushing, no asking for anything he isn’t allowed,  _ nothing wrong _ . “Goodnight, Jean.”

It takes him a while. Jeremy is probably already asleep by the time he replies with a soft, “Goodnight.”

* * *

A few nights later, Jean has another nightmare, this one very much worse than the first.

Jeremy climbs down from the top bunk for a second time, peering down at Jean with thinly veiled concern.

He slides into the bed behind Jean, holding his body tight, soothing the raw edges of Jean’s anguish with his solid weight.

* * *

The third night Jeremy finds his way into Jean’s bed, Jean lies awake, feeling Jeremy’s heartbeat thud against his back.

He feels like an addict, claiming to drop his bad habits, and then teasing himself with glimpses of it. This is peeking into what life  _ could _ be like - Jeremy and Jean could fall asleep together every night, not just because Jean is shaking with caustic memories which decide to surface, but because they can. Because they’re together. A couple. Boyfriends.

The word has so much finality, and Jean hates himself for realising that he wants that.

“We need to stop doing this,” he mumbles into the empty air, the darkness the only witness to his words (or so he thinks).

He is not expecting Jeremy to say, “Stop doing what?” His voice is thick with fatigue and low against Jean’s skin, breath tickling his neck.

Jean has half a mind to pretend that he is talking in his sleep, but he does not believe in regret. He clears his throat and says, bravely, “Pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

“Pretending that it doesn’t mean something.”

The words are raw, painful and hang in the air for far too long. Jeremy shifts against him.

“Jean.” Jeremy’s voice sounds more awake now. Jean is glad that they aren’t facing each other. All of that emotion would drive him to do something tragically stupid -  _ like kiss him _ .

“It will not end well.” 

_ For me _ , he adds mentally.  _ This will end badly for me. _

Jeremy isn’t the one with feelings which burn him from inside and out every single day. Jeremy won’t have to cope if anything is lost. Jeremy will be just fine if this ends - Jean will be left picking himself up. 

Jean is expecting Jeremy to get out, awkwardly apologise and leave. Or maybe he is going to stay, ignore that last comment and then go to sleep. Jean wouldn’t even be surprised if Jeremy left altogether - maybe to go and see McQuaid or something.

But he is really not expecting him to shuffle closer and say, “Why does it have to end at all?”

Jean feels the world rotate several times. He chokes out a, “What?”

“I’m serious, Jean,” Jeremy says, sounding one hundred percent genuine, voice smothered a little by Jean’s shoulder. “You ended it because of something I didn’t want. What if I want that?”

Jean isn’t exactly sure how to reply to that.

He tries to tame the chaos in his heart, but it is too late. Jeremy’s words have triggered some kind of explosion and warmth floods him, the knowledge that  _ Jeremy wants him back _ flying around his head.

He swallows his words and tries to go to sleep.

* * *

 

“Did you mean it?”

The words are quiet, so quiet that they nearly go unheard. Jean has always been subdued, but when he does decide to speak, his words are usually loud and clear.

They haven’t really spoken this morning. Those are the first words uttered between them. The silence had been ice, and Jean melts it with the question, watching Jeremy as he waits by the toaster. He always looks unfairly nice in the morning, hair ruffled with sleep and clothes loose and casual.

Jean isn’t a stranger to fear. But this fear feels different. This feels almost painful, sending hot spikes of anxiety through his stomach, because his and Jeremy’s  _ whole  _ friendship hangs in the balance right now, entirely dependant on what Jeremy decides to say next.

Jeremy catches his eye properly for the first time all morning. He takes a few seconds, but eventually says, “Yeah. I meant it.”

The swelling anxiety disappears. He is hit so hard by his relief that he feels almost light headed, letting himself sigh, long and ragged. “Thank fucking  _ Christ _ .”

Jeremy meets him halfway.

They kiss like they are drowning, like they are starved for oxygen and each other is their only hope to stay alive. They kiss, and it feels  _ right _ . Jean has never felt such desperation in somebody else’s tongue.

After a few moments of sloppy and uncoordinated movements, Jeremy tugs Jean down, one hand pulling at his hair, the other slipping over his ass and squeezing. They fall from rushing kisses into something slow - something easier. There’s something refreshing about it. This is  _ theirs  _ now.

Eventually, they break apart, but Jean keeps his hands firmly on Jeremy’s waist. Pulling apart for good would feel like ripping off skin. He needs this - he needs this closeness, he wants this casual intimacy.

“I definitely meant it,” Jeremy tells him, breathing heavily against Jean’s cheek. “You’re amazing.”

Jean does not feel like he deserves that title, but he lets Jeremy kiss him again.

And again. And again.

He hopes Jeremy will never stop kissing him.

* * *

 

“You are perfect,” he whispers across Jeremy’s skin, and Jean doesn't ever think he's meant something more than this.

Jeremy makes a strange noise, resembling the purr of a cat, fingers digging into Jean’s back. Perhaps he will leave marks. Jean’s always had such negative thoughts about being marked by somebody else, but he finds that Jeremy is (once again) the only exception.

It doesn’t take long until Jeremy comes, mouth falling open and a soft groan slipping past his lips. Jean follows soon after, mumbling a string of curses into Jeremy’s skin as he fucks into him hard, riding out the last of his orgasm until he is entirely spent.

Jeremy sighs, running a hand over Jean’s sweaty skin. “I love you.”

The words are said so casually, so thoughtlessly. Jean pulls back to look at Jeremy, eyes questioning, and is greeted by a wide, toothy grin.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Jeremy smiles wider, hazy from the buzz of his orgasm. “I love you, Jean Moreau.”

Neither of them mention how Jean takes a while to assemble some words.

Eventually, he replies with, “I love you too,” and the pleased little noise Jeremy makes is worth all the emotions in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so exhausted from exams and I nearly fell asleep whilst reading through it so uhhh opinions?????


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